


Family Matters

by afteriwake



Series: A Little Holmes [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At every turn his family was bound and determined to surprise him today, but in the end he was thankful that he had them…even Mycroft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Matters

“So. She did as she was told.”

Sherlock looked up three days after Irene’s visit to see his brother standing in the doorway. Abigail was in a smaller bassinet that they had picked up to keep in the common room so Sherlock didn’t need to spend all his time in his room. He had been running on very little sleep, seeing as how his daughter woke up multiple times throughout the night. He was starting to get the hang of getting her to go back to sleep. “You knew?” he asked.

Mycroft nodded. “There were people looking out for her should we have been mistaken about her death. No one expected her to come back pregnant, certainly. I was rather surprised to hear you weren’t a virgin anymore.”

“I wasn’t a virgin before,” he said darkly.

“Ah. Then apparently you are good at keeping a few secrets from me.” He came closer and looked at the baby. “I didn’t get a very good look when I paid Miss Adler a visit. She seems to take after her mother more, but she has your eyes. I expect in a few months her eyes will change colors and they’ll look even more like yours.”

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I wanted to make sure Miss Adler did what I told her to do.”

“And that was what?”

“Give you the baby and then disappear. I will not allow a member of the Holmes family to be raised by a woman on the run for her life. She needs a proper family, and I felt you could provide that for her, despite your…eccentricities.”

He wanted to make a snide remark, but in truth he was almost touched that his brother had faith in him. Almost. “What did you say to her?”

“I told her the British government would give her a small sum of money if she were to disappear and forget she ever had a daughter,” he replied. “She took our offer. I would not expect to hear from her again.”

He stayed quiet. If Irene had even considered raising this child on her own, and he was thinking she must have to have kept the baby for three weeks before she was found, he knew he should expect to hear from her eventually. She would probably not show her face, but she would make her presence known in other ways. “I suppose,” he said finally.

“If you need any help, I am willing to assist you,” Mycroft said. “Monetary assistance, mostly, but if you need a recommendation to get her into a good school I would be willing to pull strings. After all, she is my niece.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said, and this time he meant it. He watched Mycroft reach into the bassinet and stroke the girl’s cheek softly. He knew Mycroft was married to his job, and this girl would most likely be the only person to carry on their legacy. Mycroft would especially make it a point to make sure she was taken care of.

“I think Miss Adler wanted to be found. She was hidden, but she gave the child your name. I think she had rather hoped you would find her instead of me.”

“It doesn’t matter. She was found, and she did the right thing,” Sherlock said.

“Have you told Mummy yet?”

Sherlock shook his head. “No.”

“I haven’t either. She needs to know. She’s lost hope of the Holmes line being carried on. You may well become her favorite son because of this.”

“Like that matters,” he said.

“It matters a lot,” Mycroft said, almost resigned. “Do you want to tell her, or should I?”

“I will. She’s probably going to wonder why she wasn’t informed of a wedding first.”

Mycroft smiled slightly at that. “True. Of course, I doubt she would have accepted Miss Adler as a daughter-in-law. It’s best if she doesn’t know much about her.”

“I thought that as well,” Sherlock said.

Mycroft reached into his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to Sherlock, who opened it. There was money inside. “My gift, for her. Use it for whatever you need. I’ve also taken the liberty of setting up a trust fund for her. You don’t need to add anything to it. I’ll be in charge of it until she’s twenty-five.”

Sherlock nodded. This was more than he had expected from his brother. “You didn’t need to do all this.”

“Father would have done it if he was alive,” Mycroft said. “He would have been very pleased with a granddaughter. I knew he wished we had been girls.”

Sherlock smiled at that. There was truth in that statement. “Yes, he had made that clear enough.”

“Take care of her,” he replied.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock called as his brother walked to the doorway.

“Yes?” he said, not turning around.

“Thank you,” he replied.

“Think nothing of it,” he said, and then he was out the door and gone.

Sherlock looked at his daughter for a moment, and with a sigh pulled out his phone. He pulled up his mother’s number and dialed. She picked up after two rings. “Hello?” she answered.

She sounded older than he remembered from the last time he talked to her. “Hello, Mum.”

“Sherlock!” she said in a warm voice. “I’m so glad you called. I was worrying about you. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I have something I need to tell you. Are you sitting down?”

“Yes,” she said cautiously. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” he said. He took a breath. “There’s been a new addition to the family.”

She gasped. “You got married without telling me?”

“No, not quite. I was…involved…with a woman. We parted ways ten months ago. Three days ago she came to my home with a baby girl. It’s my daughter. She’s in my care now.”

“I’m a grandmother?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” he said. “She’s just over three weeks old, and her name is Abigail Irene Holmes.”

“Oh my God, I’m finally a grandmother!” she said excitedly. “But you’re not married to the mother?”

“No, Mum.”

“Is she living with you?”

“No. She is not having any part in raising this child.”

“You’re doing it on your own, then?”

“Yes, with some help from my landlady and my friend John Watson. You remember him?”

“I do. He’s such a nice chap. I would have preferred if you’d gotten married first but…oh, I’m so happy to be a grandmother. Does Mycroft know?”

“Yes. He just left, actually.”

“He knew and he didn’t tell me? I should be cross with the both of you for not telling me immediately.”

Sherlock smiled slightly. “My days and nights have rather become a blur,” he confessed. “She doesn’t sleep through the night yet.”

“Oh, my poor boy. Yes, that’s always a hard part, when they won’t sleep. But as she gets older it will be easier. When can I see her?”

“Are you busy today?” he asked.

“No, I don’t have any plans today.”

“Then I can bring her over for a bit. It might take some time, though. I haven’t had to travel with her yet. We have a car seat and a diaper bag, but…”

“You’ll manage,” she said. “I need to tell all my friends the news! I’m finally a grandmother. I’ll see you when you get here. Good-bye, Sherlock.”

“Good-bye,” he said, and he hung up. He looked over at Abigail, then stood and lifted her up. “Come on,” he said to her. “You’re about to meet your grandmother. I expect she’ll be happy with you.” He carried her into the bedroom and changed her into something a little warmer, then got everything together and carried her back out into the common room just as John came in. “Off to introduce my daughter to my mother,” he said.

“That should be fun,” he replied. “You left something on the couch.” Sherlock watched as John picked up the envelope Mycroft had given him and his eyes went wide. “That’s a lot of money.”

“A gift from Mycroft. Take out what you spent on the books and the bassinet,” he replied. “I’ll use the rest for more formula and diapers.”

He took out some of the money, and Sherlock knew it wasn’t close to what he had spent. “Just covering the books. The bassinet is a gift.” He looked over to Abigail and gave her a smile. “Have fun at your mother’s.”

“I’ll try to,” he replied. He put Abigail in the car seat and went outside to hail a cab. They had gotten an easy to use car seat so that anyone, whether it was himself or John or Mrs. Hudson, could get it in and out easily. When he was done he settled into the seat and gave the driver the address. It didn’t take very long for him to arrive at his childhood home, and he got the car seat out with little trouble. He went to the door and knocked, the car seat sitting next to him.

The door opened a few moments later and his mother stood there, wide smile on her face. Both he and Mycroft towered over her, having inherited their father’s height, so he leaned over and gave her a hug. “Hello, Mum.”

“Oh, Sherlock,” she said, hugging him back. “I am so happy right now.” She pulled away and looked at the car seat. “Oh, she’s so beautiful. May I hold her?”

“Of course,” he said. He watched her undo the latches and lift Abigail out. She went inside and he picked up the car seat and followed her in, shutting and locking the door behind him. They went to the sitting room and he watched his mother sit down on the loveseat. She reached over and patted the seat next to her and he sat down. There was tea waiting for him, and he picked up his cup.

“So it was all a surprise to you, that you were a father?” she asked.

He nodded. “Mycroft found my former paramour after she had delivered Abigail. Told her to give her to me.”

“Has she done something wrong?” she asked, concerned.

“Crossed some people she shouldn’t have, including Mycroft. She was a client, of a sort.”

“Ah. Well, yes, your daughter is much better off with you. Your job is risky, but you have a home and people who can take her in if anything ever happened, God forbid.” She looked at him. “Have you made many enemies?”

He thought of Moriarty briefly. “Just one. I hope to take care of him soon enough.” Then he took a sip of his tea.

“Well, I say kill him.” Sherlock nearly choked on his tea. His mother was advocating he murder his enemy? He looked at her with wide eyes, and she chuckled. “If you haven’t developed paternal instincts yet, they’ll come soon enough. And then you’ll do whatever it takes to protect her, up to and including murder. Mycroft can get you off the hook, especially if it’s in self-defense.”

“I suppose so,” he said, working hard to try and get back in control of his emotions. He hadn’t developed them yet, still feeling as though he was obligated to take care of her. But he trusted his mother in this. She would know.

“Your father was an awful lot like you. Maybe not as serious or intense, but you take after him much more than Mycroft. When Mycroft was born, one of his enemies made a play at kidnapping Mycroft. Your father shot the attempted kidnapper in both kneecaps for his trouble, and this was a man that until then we had considered a family friend. I didn’t realize he cared about him until that happened.”

He was surprised to hear that. He had no memories of his father having a violent streak. He remembered him as a serious man who was deep into his studies and inventions, but he knew he had cared about both his sons. He had definitely shown encouragement towards him when he had studies of his own, and was proud of Mycroft for getting such a high government position at such a young age. One of his biggest regrets was that he had been knee deep in his addictions when his father died. He had always felt his father viewed him as a disappointment, at the end of it all. “I didn’t know that.”

She looked at him closely. “He always loved you, Sherlock. Yes, even when you were a mess and you would rather be high as a kite. He may have been disappointed during that time, but he loved you nonetheless. And I think he would have been proud of the man you became. I know he would have loved this beautiful baby girl so very much.” She leaned down and kissed Abigail’s forehead, and then looked at her son. “I know you do not like to show affection, Sherlock. But promise me you will try and shower her with as much affection as you can. Little girls are special, and they deserve love and attention.”

“I will,” he promised.

“That’s good,” she said with a smile. “Now, tell me more about how things are going with her. I can give you hints and tips that might help any problems you’re having. I know sleep is one of them, I can see it by the bags under your eyes. Let me give you some advice. I raised two of you, so I have it in spades.”

He grinned slightly and began to talk to his mother. He got the feeling that their relationship was going to change now. Perhaps Mycroft was right and he was going to be viewed as the favorite son now, but it didn’t matter. He had another ally in this who understood just what it took to be a parent, and he needed as many of those as he could get. Time went by quickly, and he found four hours had passed when he left, Abigail fast asleep in the car seat. By the time he got home it was dark, and he made sure his daughter was warm before getting her out of the car.

He got to the front door and opened it, then carried daughter and car seat into the common room. Something smelled nice, and he saw John was cooking. “I’m back,” he called out.

“Just in time for dinner,” he said. “How was the visit?”

“Informative. And…nice,” he replied. “I don’t think I’ve had a more welcoming visit with my mother since I cleaned up my act and came home for my father’s funeral.”

“That’s good. You got a package today,” he replied.

“From whom?” he asked.

“Unmarked. Probably Irene,” he said. “It’s in the bassinet.”

He saw a small parcel and recognized the handwriting as Irene’s. He went to the desk and got the letter opener, and then opened up the package. Inside was a baby blanket, embroidered with the initials A.I.H., and an envelope containing some money and a letter. He pulled the letter out and read it. It was short and to the point.

_I will send money and gifts when I can. I may not be there for her, but I’ll try and help. It’s the least I can do. Irene_

He smiled faintly. Whether she wanted to believe it or not, she did have maternal instincts. He looked at the postmark on the parcel and saw it was sent from Dublin and express overnighted. She was on the run, but she still loved her daughter, even if Mycroft believed differently. He got Abigail out of the car seat and put her in the bassinet, where she didn’t awaken. Then he placed the new blanket over her and settled onto the couch. His daughter might not have come from a loving relationship, but she certainly was loved, and that would make things better in the long run.


End file.
